


Decline and Fall

by ToodleOfDeeth



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Hopeful Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 20:01:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18817984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToodleOfDeeth/pseuds/ToodleOfDeeth
Summary: Wilson is dying, and in the face of his own mortality, makes a bargin better than what could have been.





	Decline and Fall

Somehow, in this world of endless chaos there was a brief moment of recluse from the ever-shifting change in events. No fires were raging, no dogs howling at the sun, and no rain fell over the strange little island that Wilson had began to call his own. Despite this lax in events, Wilson lay dying under the shade of a birchnut tree, his thermal stone about a meter away and glowing yellow from the sun’s warmth, and the threadbare straw hat slouched over his eyes. He was going to die, he thought, too far away from his cold fire to sprint there, and without nitre to start a smaller one here. Chester panted nearby, not far enough gone to catch fire yet.

With a shaking hand, Wilson pushed his hair back from his forehead, wishing, among other things, for a razor to shave his beard. It was one of those days where his brain couldn't quite think straight and everything seemed much too bright. Instead of wishing for water and the ice-fire and maybe a long nap out of the elements, he wished for all of his clothes to be off and for him to lie under the sun. His razor was just one of these silly wishes which he might never fulfil again. 

Briefly he closed his eyes, wheezing another breath from his dry throat. 

Shade fell over his legs.

“Say pal, I thought you hated the dirt? Pretty stupid of you to be lying in it like that.” Maxwell said, appearing immaculately out of nowhere and blocking out the sun.

Wilson pried open an eye and looked at the other man, but said nothing. He eyed the umbrella Maxwell held, wondering how he had managed to string bat wings together to make it. 

“Not interested in talking, hey? I guess that’s what happens when your only concern is shaving.” 

“Stop… looking into me…” Wilson said, voice cracking around the harsh ‘T’ sounds. Maxwell’s face didn't fell, but the taller man crouched down instead and pressed a single hand to Wilson’s face, cupping his jaw with all the gentleness that one would hold a champagne flute. Wilson’s body gave a weak jolt when the half-frozen flesh came into contact with his own, not used to the feeling of cold skin on hot. 

“You’ve really done a number on yourself here, pal. Give or take ten minutes and I'll say you’ll go blind. That is, of course, if you don't take my bargain.” 

Maxwell didn't wait to see his reaction, instead pushing and pulling at the skin of Wilson’s jaw as a sort of entertainment as he went on. “I’ll give you enough water to get back to your camp, and make your little stone cold as ice again. The only thing I want is to take that little eye-bone of yours,” the demon’s other hand pressed to the head of the object in question, “For me to redistribute, if you will. It’ll still be out there, just not here. What do you say?”

Wilson struggled to think over the words, his mind sloshing from side to side like an ocean that he couldn’t drink from, and his body felt like its insides were being pulled one way and back again just as his brain was. Maxwell was more patient than usual today, however, and eventually the other man made up his mind. 

“I take what’s in Chester. You take the eye-bone, and I get the cold stone and the water.” Wilson pulled his chin from his chest, looking the demon in the eye. 

“ _ Half  _ of what’s in the mutt stays in the mutt, and that’s my final offer. Take it or leave it, pal.” Maxwell tapped off the butt of his cigar, paying no mind to how the dry grass smouldered where it fell and instead pressed the heel of his shoe to stop the flames. Wilson glared from under his straw hat and wondered if the man could actually feel the heat of the smoke. 

“Which half?” Wilson finally relented, pulling Chester closer to pull its mouth open. Inside were a few different things - his other thermal stone, a few strips of jerky and some necessary healing and battle supplies. Overall, it was some pretty important stuff, and if Maxwell were to take his healing salves from him and then send the hounds loose, he might as well just offer his neck to the chopping block now. He had more at his camp, mind you, but it was still a matter of making them. 

“I take the jerky, the log suit, and the teeth. You keep the salves, dark sword and the honey.” Maxwell leant down and plucked the eye-bone from where it hung off Wilson’s backpack, letting the scientist scrabble to pull his half of the bargain from Chester before it sproinged away.  

“Alright then pal,” Maxwell’s smile turned almost predatory, but all Wilson could focus on was how the radiating heat from the stone beside him suddenly turned icy, and he reached to press the stone to his neck. 

“Ahh…” He whimpered as the chilled stone stuck to his wet neck. Maxwell didn't interrupt as Wilson pressed it all over his face and hands, running it up his sweating arms and holding it under his armpits. 

Neither of them moved nor spoke, just listening to the distant chirping of birds and the panting of Chester. Wilson then opened up his eyes, already feeling better, and regarded the grinning demon. 

“Where’s the rest of it?” He asked.

Maxwell humphed somewhat pompously, “Where’s my thank you, pal? I’m hurt.”

“I’ll thank you  _ after  _ I get the water.”

“Fine.” with that, Maxwell pulled a waterskin from behind his back, it hanging heavy with its cool contents. Wilson felt his mouth water.

Reaching with one gloved hand, Wilson almost let out a yell when Maxwell pulled his hand back. 

“Ah! Not like that.  _ Nicely.  _ I hold it while you drink.”

Wilson sputtered. “What? Why can't I-” 

“It’s my water. I say how much you can have.” 

Wilson huffed again, drawing his knees to his chest with the thermal stone acting as a barrier, and slowly, like he was expecting a cruel trick, opened his mouth slightly. 

Maxwell smirked at this obvious display of distrust, in a much too similar way to how he would when one of his hounds yelped in pain after being struck

“Open up further so that I can actually pour the water in, pal.”

With a glare and some final reluctance, Wilson tipped his head back a little and opened up wider, no taking his eyes off the other man for a moment when he leant over and pressed the rim of the waterskin to the scientist’s lower lip. Holding his breath, like he was walking a tightrope above a pit of crocodiles, he waited. 

Slowly, then all at once, water came in manageable amounts, which Wilson didn't consider at the time but was nevertheless immensely thankful for, and he groaned as the water wet his lips and loosened his throat, he voice no longer coming as a horse croak. Cold stone still pressed to him, he drunk until he was dizzy and until he felt the water settle deep in his stomach, weighing him down in a way he almost couldn't remember as he hadn't felt it since coming to the cursed island. 

Eventually, however, the waterskin lost its namesake and Maxwell pulled it away. Wilson struggled to open his eyes, but when he did eventually gaze up at the demon he saw his devilish grin and closed them again with a groan. Maxwell chuckled, “That’s my queue,” he said, “and I’m taking this…  _ thing  _ with me.” And like that the Eyebone left Wilson’s back pocket, and in a cloud of sickly black smoke Maxwell sunk into the floor.

Wilson lay under the shade of the birchnut tree for what felt like eternity, but eventually evening came and he mustered the courage to stand on shaking legs, promising himself that as soon as he made it back to the camp with his supplies and his pride, he would shave by the blue light and make another spare rock. 

He did  _ not  _ want a repeat of that incident any time soon, lest the man ask for something Wilson wasn't so willing to give. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! this is a classic case of 'ive had this fic for ages but it's too close to finishing to throw out', and so i patched together an ending and posted it here.  
> If you did enjoy this, please let me know by leaving Kudos, bookmarks and comments :)


End file.
